If You Give a Werewolf a Wand
by A.K. Redland
Summary: Remus Lupin is the prime suspect for a murder! Can his friends find some way to prove him innocent or face his fate? Then something comes up that challenges everything they know, and not just about the murder...
1. Prologue

"If You Give a Werewolf a Wand"

PROLOGUE

6:00 AM - October 26 - London, England

  Aimee Lynell walked out of her flat, pulling her red, plaid scarf about her neck.  Even thought it was only October, summer seemed to have given fall the skip and had gone straight into winter.  Rain came steady and breezes constantly blew that threatened to bite your nose right off your face.  There really never was any snow during winter in England.  Just a lot of cold rain, high winds, and mud.  Lots of mud.

  She paused as a trolley rolled by, ringing its bell on its early morning route.  It continued over a hill and disappeared from sight.  Aimee dashed across the street, splashing dirty rainwater onto her legs.  Shivering, she began to make her way to the tavern for work. 

  It was days like these that made Aimee hate her job- getting up early every morning to do "coffee duty" as Gabby, the tavern owner, called it.  It was days like these that made Aimee hate the way the tavern waitresses had to dress, in the short skirt that barely brushed their knees and the old-fashioned striped shirt that never got rid of the alcohol smell. 

  Aimee arrived at the Lion and Unicorn tavern, next to the Leaky Cauldron, and walked inside.  The first thing she noticed was that the usual chatter and raucous laughter that filled the tavern wasn't there.  No tinking of glasses, no idle threats followed by laughter, no drunken strings of song... just the hum of the fans.  "Hello?"  She pushed her curly brown hair behind her ear, but since it was short, it popped right back in her face. 

  "Hola to you too, Ay-mee-yah!"  LeAnna, the plump Spanish waitress who was Gabby's cousin, emerged from behind the bar counter, polishing glasses.  Aimee smiled weakly.  "You not know Gabriella is taking the day off? She went to see Senora... eh, Senora... something or other!"  She laughed. "Not important enough for poor LeAnna to remember, no?" 

  Aimee smiled.  "I'm working the night shift then?" 

  LeAnna nodded.  "By the way, that young Matt boy is asking about you again. I give him your number, ok?" 

  Aimee giggled nervously.  "Oh sure.  You are a hopeless little matchmaker, aren't you?" 

  "I try.  Now busy busy, off you go! Shoo!"  LeAnna shooed Aimee out the door. 

  Aimee returned home and spent the afternoon huddled under a blanket (the flats had no heating) and got wasted on cigarettes and chocolate.  Around noon, she drifted off to sleep.  The hours flew by, 1...2...3...4...sundown...5... and then the full moon rose, round and silvery, in the clear sky.  In place of clouds was a low-lying fog that seeped through the streets like a parasite, ready to suck the nightlife out of the booming city. 

  Aimee stirred as the light fell across her face.  She rolled over and hit the hard concrete floor, and grunted.  Glancing up at the clock, she saw it was now 5:15.  "Shit!" she exclaimed, and jumped up.  She smoothed out her ruffled outfit, pulled her hair into a messy ponytail, grabbed her scarf, and sprinted out the door. 

  Running out of the front door of the building, she rounded the corner and started through the alley between flat buildings B and C.  She came to the fence at the end and proceeded to fiddle with the usually giving lock.  "Come on," she muttered.  "I don't have the damn time for this!"  She kicked the gate, but it only rattled angrily in return.  Suddenly, a trash can fell behind her. 

  She whipped around.  "Hello?"  She narrowed her eyes against the fog.  "Who's there?"  Silence.  "Come on, I know you're there..."  Aimee started to walk slowly back up the alley, having second thoughts about her short cut.  About halfway back through the alley, something stirred behind her.  A light flicked on above her, but she was more interested in what had just taken place behind her.  The gate was open!

  "Ha, nice one!" she managed nervously.  "Thanks!"  She dashed through the gate and was tripped.  Turning around to cuss out the person who seemed to like playing with her mind, she froze in horror. 

  A wolfish creature stood over her, but it had the stature of a man.  It looked at her with a ravenous hunger in its eyes.  It snarled, exposing long, yellow fangs. 

  Before Aimee had a chance to scream, the hellish thing was upon her. 


	2. Muggles and Alleys

Chp I : Muggles and Alleys 

**3:00 PM - The Next Day**

  Cornelius Fudge walked into the Leaky Cauldron, his face set in a grave expression.  The pub, packed to the brim with wizards and creatures on any other day, looked deserted.  He could understand, though.  Why would anyone want to be around a possible murder site?  The previous night, a murder had been committed in the alley next to a Muggle pub that shared a wall with the Leaky Cauldron.  The Lion and Unicorn Tavern had lost an employee to what the Muggle newspapers called a "crazed axe murderer".  But the Ministry of Magic knew better.  Stanley Jackson, a young man working for the Ministry in the London Police Force, had described the murder.

  "Well, you see, it was 'orrible. The body was torn up, like a wild animal had a go at it.  It even looked as if parts were missing- as if eaten.  The identity is still unknown, the Muggles is awaitin' the results from somethin' they call a lab.  It was absolutely 'orrible, and I never wanta seen anythin' like it again."

  "Thank you Stanley," Fudge said heavily. "Care to join us? We're discussing the murder and we might need your help."

  "Thanks but no, boss.  They need me back at the site.  I'll come back later, though."

  "OK." Turning back to the other people at the table, Fudge took in a deep breath. Across from him, fingering a biscotti and mug of mulled lead, was the Head of Department of Werewolf Ministries, Willem Lucien. To Fudge's right was the representative for the Muggle Studies department, Mr. Weasley.  To Fudge's left was the ever present Lucius Malfoy, downing a mug of beer.

  "Well, it seems we have a werewolf murder, I'm afraid," Fudge said with hesitation.

  Willem nodded and sighed.  "I hate it when things like these happen. We haven't had one since the 1890s, and we've been thankful.  But, it'll happen, as long as werewolves are here."

  "Who's the suspect?" Lucius was always eager to get someone condemned, and it annoyed Fudge slightly.

  "Well, we hate to say it..."

  Arthur Weasley cut in. "The Muggles don't suspect anything, but a Memory charm might be needed for one. This old lady looking out her window saw what she called a 'huge dog that walked like a man'. They passed her off as crazy in her old age, but we might need to see about that.... there are those who will believe her..."

  The members of the table nodded, but the tense atmosphere remained.

  "I need to know who, though, Cornelius. The  (the nickname for the Department of Werewolf Ministries) will want to know who the suspect is so we can watch him or her." 

  "I hate to say this but its a him. A him we all know very well."

  "No!" Weasley gasped. "Not him! Ron told me about him- he was a great teacher last year.  Never harmed a flea."

  "I'm afraid so, Arthur.  We are suspecting Professor Lupin."

  Lucius got a look on his face somewhere between disgust and amusement. "Him? My son said he was the worst teacher."

  "Well, everyone knows he'd rather have Snape teach it, Lucius!" snapped Mr. Weasley.

  "Please, gentlemen, we're not here to fight," warned Fudge.  "But it is the sad truth. We wouldn't have pointed fingers so quick, but he is the only registered werewolf in the London area."

  "He's not in the London area anymore, though," Willem said, sounding confused.

  "It doesn't help that his records say he can Apparate. Everything seems to be against him."

  "When will the arrest be made?" Lucius said calmly.

  "No arrests will be made yet, but he will remain under watch." Fudge sighed.  "I must be going. Willem, will you come here a second?"

  They stood by the door and bid Arthur and Lucius goodbye.  After the two other men had left, Fudge looked at Willem and said urgently, "Do not, I repeat, do not, let Albus Dumbledore get wind of this until we are ready. Do not let anyone at Hogwarts know.  OK?"

  "OK, but one question- Lupin doesn't work there anymore. Why shouldn't they know?"

  Fudge just answered with a harsh look, and disappeared out the door.

                                                              *   *   *

**5:00 PM - North of London, Same Day**

  Remus Lupin settled comfortably onto his sofa, adjusting his glasses and taking a book off the cushion, facedown where he had left it.  The fire roared in the hearth, crackling and popping, sending sparks flying into the chimney and out into the night. It was a full moon, yes, but he was going to enjoy his time before the sun went down and the moon rose.  His cat walked by, purring contentedly, its orange fur rubbing off onto Lupin's robes.

  "Yes, Crooks, tonight you'll have to stay outside. I'm sorry, I can't help it if it's raining."

  The clock ticked by until 6:30 rolled around. Lupin set his book down on the arm of the couch and got up, stretching as he headed for the door.

  "Come on, Crooks, you need to leave now."  The orange cat stuck its nose in the air and sat down.  Lupin peered through the tree and saw the first light of the moon coming up over the horizon. "Please, Crooks. Come on, there are mice out there!"

  As if his master had said the magic words, Crooks dashed out the door, tail held high.  As Lupin closed the door, the first spasm came. Fur spread across his body as he removed his robes, as not to tear them during the transformation. Crackling filled the night silence as his face pushed forward into a snout, and his knees popped backwards, becoming hackles. His hand lengthened and claws sprouted from his fingertips. The pain that filled his body was near overwhelming, and he snarled at nothing in particular.

   Suddenly the fireplace roared, and Willem Lucien's face appeared in the flames, dancing in a kaleidoscope of orange, yellow, and blue.  Lupin growled and curled up on the rug next to the fire, chewing on the edge of a worn-out coffee table that was there for that sole purpose.  The form of Willem shook visibly.

   "Er, Lupin? Can you understand me?"

   The werewolf growled louder and nodded.  A chunk of the wooden table fell to the floor and Lupin began to shred it with his claws.

  "Well, um, I have bad news..."

  A grunt.

  "You need to come to the Ministry tomorrow as early as possible. Its urgent."

  A snarl.

  Willem jumped and almost fell.  He righted himself in the flames and cleared his throat.  "Well, I will see you."

   A piece of shredded wood flew into the fire and the image of Willem disappeared.  Lupin howled in frustration and buried his jaws into the table, and fell into troubled sleep.

                                                                                   *   *   *

**10:00 AM - Hogwarts, Next Day**

   Albus Dumbledore walked quickly up the halls, whipping around corners and going quite fast for someone of his age.  He rounded a corner and entered a hall lined with suits of armor.  They politely tipped their helmets, offering tips and advice.  Dumbledore simply smiled and nodded at each of them, picking up his pace.  He arrived at his office door, and met Professors Snape, McGonagall, and Trelawney.  Also with them were Cornelius Fudge and Willem Lucien.

   "Why aren't you back at the Ministry?" Fudge was whispering not to kindly.

   "I'm sorry, but Lupin said he would not be able to show up.  So I came here."

   Fudge groaned. "He is not helping his position!"

  "Hello Minerva, Severus, Cornelius, Willem," Dumbledore said, his voice resonating through the hall, but his tone was grave. "Are we ready to begin?"

   There was an uptight, collective "Yes, sir" and so they began their way up the stairs to Dumbledore's office.  Snape entered first followed by McGonagall, Dumbledore, Lucien, and Fudge last.  Fawkes eyed Snape mistrustingly and landed on Dumbledore's shoulder.  They all pulled up some elaborate chairs (cherry wood with lion-head carved feet) and Dumbledore conjured up some small glasses of water.

   Fudge cleared his throat and folded his hands over his round belly.  "Well, you have all heard of the recent... tragedy, I dare say."

   "In more ways than one," McGonagall murmured quietly.

   "I knew it was coming, oh why didn't I do anything?" Professor Trelawney babbled to herself.

   Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Fudge continued.  "All evidence so far points to him.  The body was torn apart, and the lady from the flat above described the attacker to us before we performed a Memory Charm on her..." He paused and sucked in a breath. "And Lupin is the only registered werewolf in the London area. In Wales, to be exact. Its not a happy situation."

   "Why don't we just catch him and use Veritaserum?" Snape offered.

   "That is a good idea except for one thing.  I am sorry to admit it but our system works much like the Muggles.  We can't do anything yet until we have good convicting evidence.  Plus, he's a good man."

   "That's what we thought about Sirius Black..." muttered Snape, still not wanting to believe the blatant facts laid before his eyes last year that Sirius was, in fact, innocent.

   Dumbledore and McGonagall exchanged knowing looks, and held back smiles.  There were some tense moments of silence and the water glasses became much emptier.  Lucien cleared his throat and spoke with some level of tension.

   "Well, Albus, there is one thing.  Werewolves are not very popular and the moment this hits the press, people will be crying for someone to get condemned.  They will not want a murderer running among them, trust me. The outlook is pretty dark, for Lupin and, well, the Ministry if we try to defend him.  I hate to say it but we need new evidence that points away from him.  Otherwise..."  He shrugged and took a sip from his water glass, trying to hide his discomfort.  His hands shook visibly.

   "I think we have had enough for today," Dumbledore announced after a silence that weighed on everyone's shoulders with a terribly ominous burden.  They left the room, dark thoughts on their minds.


	3. Mulled Mead and Monsters

Chp II : Mulled Mead and Monsters 

**8:00 PM – November 2, Hogsmeade**

  Remus Lupin walked into the Three Broomsticks, not expecting anything new.  He was typically laid back, not someone who was rushing around, chattering with friends, and making meetings.  No, he liked his privacy.  Not that anyone would want to be around him anyways.  He had accepted this fact, but did appreciate that he had true friends, though few they were.

  Lupin took a seat at the bar, and a young witch looked at him, raising an eyebrow.  Lupin smiled and nodded, but the witch got a disgusted look on her face, and scooted down a few seats.  Lupin sighed, and resisted teasing the poor witch by scooting down next to her again.  Being single had its good points, but the reason why he was single didn't.

  "Ah, Lupin. Back again?"  Madam Rosmerta walked up and placed her hands on her chin, leaning over and looking at Lupin.

  "Yes, Rosmerta.  I do believe it'll be, ah, butterbeer again!"  He smiled, but Rosmerta did not return it.  Her face fell.

  "Lupin, before you go getting drunk, and I know you'll want to after you hear this, poor dear... Erm, have you heard about any recent events?  Anything that startled you?"

  Lupin frowned.  "No, not really."

  "Ah.  Well, take a gander at this."  She handed him a newspaper. "Be right back with your butterbeer."

  Lupin scanned the main headline, a title that said in big, block letters, 'MURDER IN LONDON RAISES QUESTIONS'.  Lupin read on and absentmindedly sipped at his butterbeer when Madam Rosmerta gave it to him.  As he reached the end of the article, he read aloud to himself, barely above a muttered whisper.

  "The Ministry is reluctant to release a list of suspects but they do know what committed the murder against the Muggle. 'We do not want to sound prejudiced, given the current lore and tribulation surrounding these creatures, but a werewolf is highly suspected.' - WHAT?"

  Lupin slammed the mug down on the bar and some of the drink splashed out onto the counter.  He sat there in shock, rereading the article, willing it to change. It didn't.

  "Whiskey? Scotch? Take your pick, Remus."  Rosmerta smirked and walked back into the kitchen.

  Staring blankly into space, Lupin finished his butterbeer and shakily got to his feet.  He heard snatches of the young witch's conversation with her friends as he walked out the door.

  "... werewolf... murder... him? Of course!… only one in London..."

  Lupin stomped into the foggy night, teeth gritted.  He glanced up at the Shrieking Shack, hating it, himself, and whoever bit him.  He continued walking and found that people went out of their ways to not walk close to him or pass close to him.  When it started to rain, he didn't bother to pull out his umbrella.  He simply walked along, teeth chattering involuntarily until he found himself facing a somewhat welcome sight- Hogwarts.  He paused, considered things, and made up his mind.

  Five minutes later found him at the front door to the castle, bundling up his soaked coat, and fingering the wand in his pocket.  He opened the door, and walked in.

  Severus Snape strode out of the Great Hall and into the huge foyer.  Dumbledore had said, seemingly on a whim, to check and see if anyone had come in from the rain.  Snape had though the request a sign of Dumbledore's old age and had almost dismissed it.  What he saw was something he couldn't dismiss or grasp fully.

  "Remus?" he said, barely whispering. "Remus Lupin?" His voice rose to a regular volume, but his tone dripped of hate and disgusted surprise.  "How dare you show you face here."

  "That's your opinion, Severus. Now, tell me, please, where is Albus?"

  "Hmph."  Without another word, he turned on heel and walked briskly back into the Great Hall.  Lupin hung his coats on the huge rack (it bowed and said "Good day, sir!" as he left) and headed up the stairs to the Great Hall.  He stopped as he realized that there were students in there.  Merry chatter and clicking of plates sounded fainter than he remembered it- but they weren't in Hogsmeade. Must be at a Quidditch match.

  He caught himself backing down the stairs, away from memories and fear.  Lupin recomposed himself, convincing his mind that he was being foolish.  He walked through the doors.  Instantly, the Hall fell quiet. There were only about forty students, but they all paused, forks halfway to their mouths, interrupting sentences, and stopping dead.  Lupin nodded politely and walked down the middle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables to the Teachers' Table.  He stopped and looked up at Dumbledore.

  Talking resumed, slowly but surely.  A few students left, but Lupin didn't notice them. "Albus, good to se you again," he said quietly.

  "And you, Remus."

  "My office, I presume?"  Dumbledore got up from his chair.

  Lupin nodded, some tension leaving his face.  He glanced over at Snape, who looked away.  The Potions master's face was screwed up into a mask of loathing and hate.  Ignoring the strange looks they got, Dumbledore and Lupin walked out of the Great Hall as quickly as Lupin had come.

  "So, Remus... welcome back."  Dumbledore looked over at the 'retired' Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.  "How have things been since you left?"

  "Dismal, as usual," Lupin said, his cracked voice barely above a whisper.

  "Ah, but surely you haven't been sad all along?"

  A strange look passed over Lupin's face.  "No."

  "Well?..."

  "Er... uh, Crookshanks keeps me company.  Sirius will visit once in a while... and of course I have my books."

  "It is a good thing to be consumed in books rather than other things," Dumbledore mused with an oblique glance at Lupin.

  Lupin almost laughed bitterly, remembering Madam Rosmerta's comment on him becoming a drunk.  He replied, "We'll see how long that lasts."

  Dumbledore's stride slowed down for a split second, but he regained his sweeping gait as they reached his office.

  "Mouse knees!" the headmaster rumbled, and the gryphon statue in front of the hidden doorway rotated around to reveal a flight of stairs.  The two men walked up to the lavishly decorated quarters above and sat down in two chairs.

 "Anything to drink, Remus?" Dumbledore asked.

  "No, I'm fine."

  "Then what brings you here if you don't want any of my famous cocktails?" Dumbledore said lightly trying to lighten the mood.

  Lupin chuckled.  "I was... mildly disturbed by the article I saw.  What is with them jumping to conclusions? It could have been a vampire murder, or even a regular Muggle."  But he knew he was trying too hard by the look on Dumbledore's face.

  "This was no work of a Muggle, Remus, and I suggest you not present that story when you come before the Ministry."

  "What?" Lupin sputtered angrily.  "A trial? No one has told me! Why those bastards..."

  "Now, hear me out...  They are pretty sure its a werewolf... no other creature could inflict such wounds.  It also happened on a full moon.  The reason they are pointing to you is because you are the only registered werewolf in the London area.  That's the bad side.  The good side is the fact they are even giving you a trial at all, Remus.  I don't think you really understand how dangerous this situation is."  Dumbledore paused, and looked over at his bookshelves.  He got up with some effort and walked over to the one nearest the table.  Blowing dust away from the side bindings so he could read the titles, he pulled a book from it.  Walking back over to a confused Lupin, he sat the book in front of the young man.

  "Here.  It's a book about previous werewolf trials.  I know you love books, and so I thought maybe you would like to read up on what you are fixing to go against.  I think its time you know something- what the Ministry wants... it will get."

  Lupin looked up and stared at Dumbledore like he was crazy.

  "Ok.  Thanks very much, Albus. I will probably owe you alot when this whole ordeal is over."

  "Good luck, Remus."  Dumbledore smiled and they shook hands.  "Just remember that most of us here at Hogwarts are on your side, so don't hesitate to come back."

  Lupin nodded, and went back down.  The gryphon statue blinked once and said in a weedy voice, "Have a great day, sir!", with a heavy Irish accent.

  "Sure," the werewolf muttered, and once off the hogwarts grounds, he Apparated back to his only other comfort zone, his house.

                                                               *  *  *

**7:00 AM – November 3, London**

  Constable Glen Quigley of the London Police Force paced outside the yellow tape, shaking his head at the murder site. Though the body had been picked up and shipped off to a lab, the bloodstains remained on the ground and on the walls of the flats.  Bending over with some trouble, due to his rotund middle, he ducked under the tape that yelled in text "CAUTION! ACHTUNG! CUIADO!" at anyone that dared come near.

  "Glen, sir?"  The constable turned around to see Stanley Jackson standing there.  He rather disliked the 23-year-old American, who always seemed to know what was going on even better than his veteran officers.

  "What, Jackson?"  Glen turned and held the youngster with a harsh stare.

  "Er..." Stanley seemed taken aback.  "I, eh, uh, I mean… Is there any new evidence?"

  He seemed rather uptight that day.  Indeed, the day before, the killer had been identified as a male in his 20s or 30s.  Glen thought it rather strange, though, that Stanley was always sticking his abnormally large nose (no, really) in the higher affairs of the department.

  "What do you care, rookie?" the constable teased.

  Stanley seemed to take offense.  "Jus' wondrin' sir!"

  "Well, stop wondering and get back to your work."

  "This is my work, Mr. Quigley."

  "Do you want to be fired, young man? I said get back to your work."

  "Yes sir," Stanley muttered, and walked off.

  Glen Quigley laughed and snorts peppered his glee.  How he hated Americans, coming over in their supposed rich splendor.  Filthy pigs.

  He refocused on the scene before him.  The blood was splattered randomly, going up the wall in patterns taller than himself.  The puddle was around five feet across, meaning the girl lost a heck of a lot of blood before and after dying.  But what puzzled him most were the footsteps leading away.  They were long and shuffled and seemed to change as they went along.  The body had been dragged a few feet that same way, but the murderer had obviously dropped it.  Too heavy?  Fear of being caught?  There were endless reasons why.

  Turning away and closing his head, he walked around the corner of the building and entered the Lion and Unicorn Tavern.  As soon as he disappeared, Stanley Jackson walked hurriedly back into the alley.  Whistling innocently, he tapped the wall.

  Coming out from under his invisibility cloak, Cornelius Fudge did a double take at the scene, thought he had been staring at it through the cloak for twenty odd minutes.

  "Wow," he murmured, in shocked awe.

  "Yeah, its pret'y ugly, sir.  But I did find somethin' a tad strange, sir…"

  The young man trailed off, gazing oddly at the red stains that climbed the wall.  He pushed fudge closer and pointed to some funny marks next to the red.  They were black, and came off to the touch.

  "Know what that is, sir?"  Stanley said, a tone of slight worry entering his tenor voice.

  Fudge shook his head, at a momentary loss of words.

  "Soot, sir.  Burns.  There was fire here, and I'm not thinkin' that it was a cozy camp fire."  He raised his eyebrows, shrugged, and walked off, leaving Fudge to himself.

                                                               *  *  *

**9:00 PM – November 7, Lion and Unicorn Tavern**

  Gabrielle Delgado rushed about in the kitchen, her ridiculously curly black hair bouncing off her shoulders.  She kept smoothing her apron, which rode up and stopped in a bunch at her thighs, causing great discomfort.  Yelled orders bounced off the brick walls that held in the heat and smells, mixing and whirling in a never-ending wind reeking of tavern life.  Some days she hated it, some days she didn't.  There were always waitresses complaining about looks from guys cause of their short skirts, cooks complaining for pay raise, and customers walking off drunk without paying checks.  But Gabby survived it all and dealt with each little scenario as it came along.

  "Gabby? We have a drunk out there trying to start a fight!  Well, ok, it hasn't happened yet, but he's picking at some guy and they're looking pretty… angry, and… oh help!"  The timid waitress, Tina Longfellow, was near tears.  She panicked at every little thing.  Gabby wondered if she should be working in the harsh tavern environment.

  "Ya go sit down back here, hon, an' I'll get this," Gabby said reassuringly.

  She slammed open the kitchen doors and stomped out, he heels clicking loudly on the wooden floor.  The tall Chilean woman crossed the room in what seemed like two strides and gave two men a wilting stare.  They were arguing loudly in drunken slurs, balling their fists.  One was tall and lanky, with shaggy brown hair that fell to his shoulders.  He was bent over slightly, in a position that suggested that he was not in favor of winning any fights.  The other man was just as tall but muscular, and wore a tight t-shirt that showed it.  He had dark blonde hair and beady brown eyes that looked almost black in anger.

  "There a problem wit'cha, boys?" Gabby said in her heavy New Yorker accent.

  They both looked at her with mixed reactions.

  "No, ma'am," the muscular one said.  "Just straightening a problem."

  He talked in a low, insinuating tone that meant trouble for anyone who got in his way.  He also had an accent Gabby couldn't quite identify.  She looked at the thinner man.

  "And you?"

  "No.  Nothing."  There was something of hidden panic and anger in his voice.

  "Ok then.  If you ain't here to get'chaselves some drinks, I suggest ya leave."

  The think one nodded and walked out, still hunched somewhat.  The muscular one followed, eyeing Gabby with one last angry look.

  "Man, people these days, I tell you.  Gabriella, you better watch out.  Men giving you nasty looks, yes?"  LeAnna walked by, a tray full of margaritas balanced on one of her splayed hands, held above her head.

  "Yeah, LeAnna.  Listen, is what Louise tellin' me true?  Ya sista's havin' a baby?"

  "Yes, yes!  How she know?"

  "Ah, word gets 'round I guess.  Um, how would ya feel 'bout a break?"

  LeAnna's black eyes widened considerably.  "Yes, yes!  I would love it!"  She deposited the margaritas in the hands of the already tipsy customers, who tipped her with a generous 5-dollar bill and proceeded to trip over each other out the door.

  "Now, LeAnna, ya can go home and spend a week with ya niece.  Or nephew, whatever tha tyke is."

  "Oh, thank you so much!  Bless you!"  LeAnna fairly skipped back to the kitchen, undoing her apron as she went along.  Gabby chuckled to herself and walked back behind the bar.  She leaned on her elbows, putting her face in her hands, and looked around the little tavern that had been her own baby for the past six years now.  She would dearly hate to leave it, but they had been losing a lot of business at a fast rate due to the recent murder that happened right outside their door.

  Another hour or two passed, and closing time rolled around.  All the cooks left, joking and slapping each other on the back, laughing uproariously over something that had happened earlier that night.  Gabby stayed last to lock everything up and make sure no fires were left on or any refrigerators left open.

  BAM.  The wall facing the flats shook.  Gabby caught herself on the counter, slitting her palm on a knife.

  "Ah!" she cried, biting her lip.  She squeezed her hand, looking for a paper towel, but they were all put back in storage for the night.  Taking in a shaky breath, she clicked open the back door that lead into the alley.  "Hello?" she said softly.

  CRACK.  She turned to the left in time to see a figure slam to the ground, their head bouncing off the pavement with a sickly crack.  Another figure stood over the fallen one, laughing.  Gabby quickly recognized the man on the ground as the tall, lanky one in the tavern earlier, and the standing man as the muscular one who had given her the nasty look.

  "You seriously think you can defy me, Mnakana?" the dark blonde said.  Gabby frowned- she had never heard a name like that.  She crept slowly out into the alley, hiding behind a large, brown trash bin.

  "No, but-"

  "Then what's your problem?  The Alpha ordered me to do a job, and you will not stand in either of our ways.  Do you understand?"

  Mnakana whimpered, and for a moment said nothing.

  "Answer me, fool," the other man snarled.

  "No, Srhat, I don't defy you and Ankhari.  I simply defy the Old Ways and what they stand for," Mnakana answered quietly.

  With a roar of rage, Srhat bent over and grabbed Mnakana's collar.  He lifted him into the air.  But that wasn't the only thing.  As the smaller man was lifted into the air, Srhat began to change.  Fur spread across his body.  His frame, already huge, grew taller and more trunk shaped, like an animal's.  His face pushed outward into a short, heavy-set maw, and soon after saber teeth slid down past his lips.  His eyes changed to a golden color, and became pupiless.

  "How dare you even suggest that!  You are a subordinate!  This would mean death for even a higher ranked Pyran than you!" the creature that was Srhat snarled in a guttural, growly voice.

  Mnakana started to twist his body around, trying to get free of Srhat's paw-like hands that sported long, sharp claws.  The claws twisted into the shirt that Mnakana was wearing, tearing the fabric and almost ripping it from his body.

  Mnakana too began to change, and when he was done, he was also a creature like Srhat.  He was shorter and his fur was brown-and-white mottled.  He growled and lashed out at Srhat.  The other wolf-like creature blocked the block with his arm, which was torn open.  He snarled again and dropped the smaller wolf-creature.

  "You disgrace the name of Pyrans everywhere, lowly scum!"  Holding out a huge paw-hand, Srhat closed his eyes.  A small ball of golden light was forming in his palm.  Mnakana took this chance and leapt up, aiming for the larger creature's throat.  As he made contact, Srhat let out a gargling sound and fell back, clutching his throat.  A trail of blood so dark it seemed black began to trickle down his chest.

  Srhat's eyes went wide with pain and he sank to his knees, cursing as best he could with half his windpipe gone.

  "You'll pay…" he wheezed, barely able to breath.

  "We'll see, Srhat," Mnakana said coldly.

  Gabby let out a horrified squeak, and got up to run for the door.  Both creatures (which she now knew were Pyrans) looked over at her, narrowing their solid, glittering eyes.  Mnakana dropped to all fours and reached Gabby in two bounds, growling low.

  "You... you ain't… h-h-human!"  she screamed.  She backed up, tripping over a trash pile and falling into a puddle of muddy water.

  "Bring the girl!"  Srhat rasped, and seemed to disappear into midair.

  Mnakana narrowed his eyes, not in anger, but instead there was an almost sympathetic look on the Pyran's face.

  "I'm sorry," he said in his low, rocky voice, and picked Gabby up.  Slinging her over his massive shoulder, he muttered a few words.  Gabby felt as if she were falling into a deep pit, with the sound of water roaring in her ears, pounding on her head.  Falling… floating… falling… falling…

  Blackness.


End file.
